the end of my childhood – officially.

After watching Ratatouille I was left with the desire for the spaghetti I use to eat when I was a kid. This came from a small mom/pop pizzeria right next to where I use to live when I was about 5 or so years old. Yesterday after work I called the place and placed an order to be picked up by me. Mind you this place is pretty out of the way for me right now.

I get there and its redecorated. I tried not to freak, but then I noticed that the usual guy, Pablo, wasn’t there and neither was the other older guy. Instead there was a couple of women and a kid. I really, really tried not to freak. When they gave me the spaghetti without the garlic rolls I knew something was horribly wrong.

I asked, and it was true… Pablo had sold the pizzeria God only knows when. I hadn’t been there in about a year. I wanted to start yelling at the lady, and I really didn’t want the spaghetti anymore. Still, I paid for it cause I’m polite like that, and then I took it home because I figured maybe they kept the recipe.

Yes, they did keep he recipe, but they added their own twist. I could tell that underneath that glob of mozarella was my spaghetti of old, but there was no way to remove the offensive cheese. I went ahead and tried it… ack. It wasn’t bad per se, but it wasn’t my spaghetti. It was so frustrating cause I knew it was there in my hands, but it had been corrupted by these new owners.

I am very upset, and very hungry for something that will never be again.

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